


Phantom Pains

by sleepyth (sluggybunny)



Category: Chronicles of Darkness - Fandom, Promethean: The Created, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Eye Trauma, Ghosts, Hallucinations, Implied Past Abuse, traumatic past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9822008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sluggybunny/pseuds/sleepyth
Summary: Some small bits of writing for a ball jointed doll named Yvan, who wields a knife and speaks with ghosts.





	1. Familiar

It’s very strange for Yvan.

They’ve been away from the house for a few years now, but they never really interacted with other people- human or not. And now, with the throng, it’s very strange.

No one yells at them, no one hits them. They dropped something and Coyote picked it up for them, he didn’t get angry at them. They can raise their head in a conversation, not having to keep their head glued to the floor and no one strikes them for it. They are able, they are _expected_ , to speak up in conversations.

When Yvan goes to bed, no one slips in besides them. For once, Yvan feels safe.

But it’s also strange. Because it’s unfamiliar. It’s scary. It’s too different. They don’t know how act in these situations. With Edgard, they _learned_ very fast. Don’t speak, keep your head down, take the hits, let him do whatever it is he wants. Here, it’s too different. The look in Barnes’ eyes when Yvan flinches for daring to look him in the eyes. Asking, what do you want? What does Yvan want? They can’t make that decision without knowing what they _have_ to want.

And one night, it comes to them. How unfamiliar and different this is. How scary, how hard it is. And they think of Edgard, how much they hated him. Him and his _daughter_ , the house. The dresses, the hands, the whispers, the stained bed covers.

“ _Don’t go outside, Freesia. It will hurt you, you will be hurt.”_ It hurt being there too.

They think about it. They think about it all, and they cry. They curl up in their bed, alone and safe, and cry. Knees to their chest, hands clutching what remains of their hair, sobbing and sobbing just like they did when Edgard finally left them alone for the night.

_I want to go home._

They don’t know _why_. It’s safer here. It’s better here. Home has a dead body and bad things. But it’s familiar. It’s familiar, it’s familiar and they want to go home. They briefly wonder what would happen if they went back. Would the throng even let them? Would they care enough to stop them? They don’t think they really want to go home, but the thought is there. Nagging them in the back of the skull, so similar to the ghosts but Yvan knew it was their voice.

“Don’t think about it.” They whispered it to themselves over and over. But it wasn’t any use. They’d always think about it. It always going to be there, always until they forgot. Until they could forget what happened in _Maison de Folie._

_I want to go home._

 


	2. Fallen

Yvan stayed out of the towns. Stayed away from people. They knew, somehow, that they couldn’t stay with them, couldn’t be around them. At least, not for too long. It’s something wrong with them, Yvan, that makes something wrong with the humans. So, Yvan stays away.

 

They’re not sure how to talk to them anyway. It’s hard to speak and Yvan can’t handle the eyes, the staring. The ghosts whispering seem to get louder the more humans Yvan sees. So, it was good that Yvan didn’t feel the cold as much. They knew it’d eventually get to them, but for now

 

Yvan was climbing through some trees and brambles through the woods when they slipped. Their clothes, their shoes, they weren’t meant for foresting. So they slipped and fell down a small cliffside. It hurt very badly when they smashed their head on a rock but they didn’t fall asleep and they simply sat up in the snow. There was blood, a lot of it, and it hurt very badly. But Yvan didn’t cry. They just stared at the blood stained snow.

 

“ _I told you this would happen._ ” Edgard said, suddenly standing before Yvan. He looked down at them, his chest and face covered in blood. Stab wounds with entrails hanging out. Tears running down his cheek, but his eyes were dead. “I told you, Freesia. You would get hurt. It’s too dangerous, Freesia.”

 

“I’m not her...” Yvan mumbled but he couldn’t hear them. He was dead.

 

“ _Please don’t leave, Freesia. It’s too dangerous_.” He pleaded. Yvan hugged their knees as he went on and on, begging for _Freesia_ to never leave, to come back, to never leave. Yvan knew he wasn’t real, but at the same time believed he was really here. Coming to drag Yvan back and love them up in the claustrophobic room. The room with the satin curtains, heavy blankets, and the dozens of photos of Freesia staring at Yvan, knowingly. 

 

Yvan knew Edgard killed her. But Yvan also killed her again when they removed the blue. If Edgard didn’t hate Yvan for killing him, he would hate them now. Yvan ruined everything.

 

The apparition moved again, slowly walking forward towards Yvan and reaching for their leg before he simply ceased to exist. Then Yvan heard a voice, but not from within their own skull.

 

“My god, are you alright?”

 

Yvan’s body jolted as their head jerked towards the source of the voice. A tall women, with blond hair and freckles. She was dressed in a heavy winter coat and had a look of worry spread across her face. Ah, right, there was a lot of blood. 

 

Yvan panicked, but unable to move as the women rushed to her side. Yvan could see the women blink at them, confused about Yvan. Yvan wondered if it was happening again, if the women would scream from seeing them.

 

“There’s a lot of blood, are you alright?” She asked, then Yvan realized that they were indeed simply sitting in an increasingly large pool of blood.

 

“I’m fine.” Yvan said, their own voice sounding cracked and broken. When was the last time they had ever spoke?

 

“You need to get out of the cold, what are you doing out here dressed like this? It’s freezing out.” The women moved to pull Yvan up by the arm.

 

That’s when the screaming happened. It happened within Yvan’s skull, the ghosts. The ghosts talking. Why now? Because Edgard? Because the bleeding and the pain?

 

_“You can’t trust her! Don’t! Kill her before she hurts you! They all want to hurt you! Do it!”_

 

_“No, don’t! Don’t, she will hurt you! Run! Run!”_

 

All at once. The whispering, the screaming, stabbing into Yvan’s skull like thousands of knives. Thousands of knives. Like the knife in their hand.  Like the knife Yvan always had.

 

_“Kill her.” “Run.” “Kill her.” “Run.” “Kill her.” “Run.”_

 

Edgard’s voice. Broken, crying, grabbing a hold of Yvan and holding them still. “ _They want to take you away from me._ ”

 

They swung the knife up. They could see it in the women’s face, her expression from concern to pure fear, fear for her own life. The paused for a split second, fighting with themselves before they slammed the knife into their leg and let out a scream as they felt pain again, harsher and hotter then the pain from the fall.

 

The women let out a scream of her own and stumbled back, away from Yvan. Yvan fell down and stabbed their leg again. “Get out!” They screamed, to themselves. “Leave me alone!” They tried to drag themselves away, running away like the voice told them too. The women was running away now and Yvan felt sadness but they knew this is how it had to be. 

 

The Pyros healed their body. When the wound in the leg healed, Yvan stabbed it again. It made it quiet. It kept the voices away. It kept Edgard away.


End file.
